Moon River
by stella8h8chang
Summary: In 1966, Alphard Black returns to London and begins a lifelong friendship with his nephew Sirius. In 1976, Sirius returns to London to see his uncle Alphie one last time. Two-shot about 'two drifters', for BonniDolle’s Twinkle Challenge. For Sal.
1. Chapter 1

**Moon River, Part One  
**

**"_Moon River, wider than a mile,  
__I'm crossing you in style some day…  
Oh, dream maker, you heart breaker,  
Wherever you're going I'm going your way."_**

Alphard Black whistles softly to himself as he walks down Grimmauld Place, a decrepit street that betrays the demeanour of those who live in it. He pauses at a particular block of pavement between numbers eleven and thirteen, into which someone has carved the initials "TP". He puts down his guitar case and reaches into his rucksack, pulling out his wand (which he rarely uses) and bends down to trace the letters, while whispering _"Tojours Pur"_.

When he straightens up, a black door appears in front of him, followed by a grey brick wall, adorned with several small windows. Within twenty seconds, a mansion has forced its way out from between the two neighbouring houses, like a monster out of a science-fiction novel. But for Alphard, a wizard, it's real. Too real.

He goes up the steps to the front door of "number twelve" and softly taps the silver snake-shaped doorknocker. The snake springs to life, leaping up at him, eyeing him up and down, before opening its mouth and saying, "Come in."

It's the voice of his sister Walburga, the first person he sees when the door creaks open. Behind her is his brother-in-law, Orion (who happens to be his second cousin as well) and partly hidden by the folds of her voluminous robes are his nephews, Sirius and Regulus.

"I see you chose not to Apparate," Walburga sneers by way of a greeting.

"No," he replies, as he takes a step into the gloomy corridor.

He's failed the Apparition Test three times already – enough is enough. Plenty of wizards don't bother with Apparition; brooms may be slower, but they're safer. And Alphard himself finds that muggle transport has a sort of charm to it, although he'll never admit his fondness for aeroplanes to anyone.

"Lucky you're in town for once, eh? Thank you for offering to mind the boys, Alf," Orion says, though his stony eyes betray a distinct lack of gratitude. "We should be back by midnight."

"No problem," he replies, and stoops to speak to Sirius and Regulus. "And what time should you two be in bed by?"

They blink blankly at their Uncle Alphard. Bedtime is clearly not something Walburga enforces, clear by the fact that she's pushing past them all, ready to Disapparate from her doorstep. "Oh, it doesn't matter," she says. "Ten?"

"Ten?" echoes Alphard, hardly believing his ears – his nephews are only five and six.

"Nine, then," says Orion. "Be good, won't you, boys?" They nod as their parents turn away, disappearing with a pop.

Alphard strains to remember what it's like to be five. He remembers too well what it's like to be neglected – neglected because he was the middle child, because he was in the wrong house at Hogwarts and didn't deserve the same attention as the good Slytherin boy and girl, because now, at thirty-five, he has yet to settle down in a proper, permanent place with a proper, permanent wizarding job. And sadly, there is that same aura of neglect surrounding Sirius and Regulus. Even more sadly, it doesn't surprise him, for Walburga was _never_ the motherly type. He reckons she only had Sirius because of the pressure to produce a male heir in the Black family (Cygnus and Druella have three daughters) and Regulus was an accident.

He figures he should introduce himself.

"Hello, Sirius, hello Regulus, do you remember me?"

"No," says Sirius bluntly.

"That's all right – last time I saw you, you were barely able to talk."

"Where have you been?"

Alphard smiles at Sirius' spirit. "Oh, just travelling," he replies vaguely. "And what about you?" he asks the smaller, much quieter boy. "What were you doing before I came here?"

"Riding my broom?" he says, holding up a toy, the kind that only rises about a foot or two off the ground.

"That's a very nice broomstick," says Alphard. "Mine is really old – it's a _Shooting Star_."

"Oh. May I go play with mine again?" asks Regulus.

"Er – um – yeah – sure?" Alphard shrugs, not being able to find any reason why the kid shouldn't be allowed to do so – his younger brother, Cygnus, had a toy broomstick when he was only two. Regulus should be safe on his own.

Alphard fears he's not much good with kids. He's gotten roped into this because Cygnus' youngest daughter, Narcissa, whom they usually rely on to baby-sit (despite the fact that she's a child herself), is at Hogwarts this year, and they would be obligated to pay anyone who wasn't in their family. Moreover, this is the first time he's been in Britain _in years_, and this is a relatively quick and painless method of getting one of his obligatory family visits out of the way.

"What's that?" asks Sirius, jabbing his finger at the guitar case.

"A guitar."

Alphard's guitar is like an arm or a leg to him; he's only aware of its presence when he's _not_ carrying it.

"What's that," repeats Sirius exasperatedly.

"Um, you make music with it."

"Show me," he says.

"All right – _you_ show me somewhere we can sit down, and _I'll_ show you how to play the guitar."

In the living room, Alphard sets the guitar case down before Sirius' wide eyes. It's covered with stickers – some proudly bearing the names of bands (current ones like _The Beatles_ and old ones like _Buddy Holly_) and others turning the case into a passport (_New Orleans,_ _New York, Los Angeles, San Francisco, Barcelona, Paris, Vienna, Venezia, Sydney, Auckland, Tokyo…)_.

"That's a lot of stickers."

"Yeah, they basically hold my case together," Alphard says. "Here, I'll let you have one." He's been to New York twice; waving his wand, he peels off a spare and hands it to Sirius. "Keep it somewhere special – that came all the way from across the Atlantic Ocean."

"Thank you," says Sirius mechanically. "But what about the music?"

"No, I haven't forgotten, little fellow," he reassures Sirius. Alphard deftly flips the latches on the case and lifts out the large acoustic guitar. "What would you like to hear? Good old Celestina Warbeck?"

"Who's she?"

"Never mind," says Alphard. The boy's not old enough to know the difference between magical and muggle music…come to think of it, Alphard's never been able to hear any difference anyway. One particular tune has been firmly planted in his head since the moment he turned the corner and walked down Grimmauld Place. "You might like this song," he tells Sirius. "It's called _Moon River_ and it's beautiful."

* * *

**A/N: Moon River is the property of Johnny Mercer and Henry Mancini (1961). Alphard, Sirius, Regulus Black et al are the property of JK Rowling.  
**

**My deepest apologies to anyone who's reading this and _Danse Macabre_ at the same time; I know I said I was going to update DM soon, but sometimes...fate has other plans for you.**

**Thank you to BonnieDoll for coming up with such groovy prompts!  
**


	2. Chapter 2

**Moon River, Part Two**

**_"Two drifters…off to see the world,  
__There's such a lot of world to see.__  
We're after the same rainbow's end –__  
Waiting round the bend,__  
My huckleberry friend,  
Moon River…and me."_**

Ten years later, a black dog plods along the sidewalk, shaggy tail between his legs. He comes to a complete halt outside _Purge and Dowse Ltd_, jerks his head from side-to-side, scanning for bystanders. There are three, leaning against the red-brick wall next to the dusty shop window. One stands out as being a head shorter than his companions. Another has black hair that falls over his black glasses with a distinctly windswept look, even though today is deathly calm. The last, the tallest, though looking most in need of a decent meal, has light brown hair fastidiously combed back.

The dog approaches this one and puts a wet nose into his hand. "Sirius…" he mutters, more of a knowing statement than a question.

The dog looks up at him and is transformed into a man.

Or, more rightly, a boy on the verge of becoming a man.

"Remus…" says Sirius. He looks around, into Peter's small, squinting eyes, and James' hazel, bespectacled ones, and he opens his mouth to thank them, but the words get stuck in his throat and refuse to come out.

James puts a hand on Sirius' shoulder. "Did you manage to talk to Regulus?"

Sirius lies. "Oh, yeah, I did. He wanted to come with us, but he couldn't. Y'know, my mother and Alphard being who they are and all that…"

This morning, Sirius told James he would meet them later at the hospital, because he was going to see his younger brother beforehand, to ask if he wanted to visit their uncle. But in fact, all he did was board the Knight Bus an hour early, and get off here, along with a heavily pregnant young woman with two tiny red-haired sons. While still in her magical shadow, and while she was preoccupied with explaining to "Bill and Charlie" about "Uncle Fabian and Uncle Gideon", Sirius transfigured himself and went for a wander. He always feels that in his Animagus form, he is spared from thinking too much about things.

"That's what friends are for," says Peter in a mousy voice. It's a clichéd little quote, but Sirius appreciates it, clings to it even.

"Are you ready?" asks Remus gently.

"Yeah," he says.

Remus takes a few steps towards the window of _Purge and Dowse_, and addresses the ugly mannequin standing there. "We're here to see Alphard Black," says Remus in a low, but clear and strong voice.

The waxy doll nods and beckons with its finger. The four boys step through the magical glass – Remus first, holding Sirius' hand, followed by James, and then Peter.

Sirius is too numb to notice much of what's going on at St Mungo's today. Somehow his feet carry him to the second floor of the hospital, to Ward 31 where the only occupant greets him with a sigh and an apologetic look.

"You know I'm going to die soon, right?"

Sirius knows his Uncle Alphie isn't well – six months ago, during the Christmas holidays, when he last saw him, his uncle had lost so much weight that his cheekbones stuck out – but _how on earth is one meant to reply to a question like that?_

But Alphard knows better, and checks himself. "I hear you've moved out," he says.

"Yeah. I'm staying with the Potters – with James' family." He points with his thumb.

"Well, really," says James, "It was less moving-out and more…"

Remus coughs, cutting James off, as if to tell him that this isn't an appropriate time to make jokes.

A grin spreads across Alphard's emaciated face. "Three months more and you'll be seventeen, eh? Old enough to get a place of your own? No offence to _your_ family, kid," he turns to James, "I'm sure you live in a castle that could give Hogwarts a run for its money. But I've been thinking…"

He is interrupted by a Healer with lime-green robes and a high-pitched voice. "I don't know how you four got in, but the rules clearly state _no more than two visitors at once, with the exception of family…_"

"B- but…"

Remus grabs James. "I'm terribly sorry, Healer…Healer _Crouch_," he says politely, looking at the young witch's name badge. "We must have missed it." Evidently he's judged that there is no way this motley group could be mistaken for being blood relations, and he's also got an idea. "Come on, you too, Peter, let's go and get a cup…a cup of tea…"

Alphard waves to the three boys as they are ushered out of the ward by the fussy healer, and only speaks when they are gone. "Figured out even before I'd even realised that I wanted to speak to you alone. I mean, it's nice that they've come, they're great boys and all that…anyway, very perceptive, that lanky friend of yours, isn't he?"

"R-Remus?" Sirius stutters. "Yeah – he's really smart – got twelve OWLs."

"Oh! I totally forgot to ask – how did you do?"

"All right. Eight. One O, three E's, four A's." Little things like school exams have simply paled out of importance.

"Congratulations. I don't remember getting more than five. And don't you go saying that this bug is affecting my memory…it's just fine. If you gave me a guitar, and the strength to hold it, I bet I could play through Don Mclean's entire epic – all eight and a half minutes of it – and not forget a single word."

Sirius imagines singing through American_ Pie_. But then phrases like "_bye-bye, Miss American Pie_," and "_the day…the music died_," make him feel like crying.

"I wish I could go back to that time, a long, long time ago…" Sirius says. "…back to those days when I could climb into a guitar case, when I was just about small enough for you to latch it shut, when you could have carried me away to New York just like that…"

"Would've made running away that little bit easier, eh? Oh, Sirius, you can't live your life in the past. You have to face the future, and whatever she has in store for you. Anyway, before The Grouch came along, I was going to tell you…I'm leaving you everything."

"You're – you're _what_?" splutters Sirius.

"Look. It makes perfect sense. I don't have any kids, and my closest friends are muggles. You are the closest thing I've ever had to a son, and I know you've been blasted off the family tree – so my sister and cousin won't be giving you anything remotely resembling an inheritance. I've never had a proper house, but I've a fair bit of gold sitting under London that might help you to get one of your own…"

"Uncle…"

It hits Sirius as he takes his uncle's hand, all skin and bones, in his own. His Uncle Alphie is actually _dying_ in front of him. While at school, he's been able to believe that the Healers might have gotten it wrong. That there is no way a forty-five-year-old wizard could be surrendering his life to something like _this_.

"..I – I can't thank you enough…" he finishes his sentence.

"Oh you can, Sirius. Make sure I don't end up in the Black Family Crypt by taking my money. I'd actually much rather be cremated and scattered into the sea by starlight. Free at last," says Alphard, letting go of Sirius' grip and stretching his arms out wide.

Sirius swallows, and realises that his eyes are all watery. His uncle leans towards him, holding Sirius' left hand between two withered ones. "It's all right, son, all wandering rivers reach the ocean in the end."

* * *

**A/N: To ****Sally: This is for you. May your grandma rest in peace. My thoughts are with you and your family.**

**To BonnieDoll: Thank you for the challenge!**

**To WhiskeyTangoFoxtrot: Thank you for your review, and for your inspirational characters!  
**

**To all my other beloved readers: thank you for joining me on Sirius and Alphard's journey! Please do let me know your thoughts in a review. I really do appreciate them!  
**


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